Tied Up in You
by xpiester333x
Summary: "Despite the man's current state, he was sort of...beautiful." A sort of AU/not AU back story of Zoro's involving a curly browed blond.


_This is a fic based on art that can be on candy-of-doom's tumblr found here: /post/62512823943/guess-not and here: /post/ 62274473803/dunno-i-probably-should-stop-now and I highly recommend looking at the art first because my story cannot do it true justice._

* * *

Zoro folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. He wasn't taking no for an answer. He was going to join the dojo at any cost. He really didn't have any other choice but to take up a sword and learn how to live on his own.

"You should go back home," The old geezer in front of him said. The old man sounded tired, worn out from repeating himself again and again to the stubborn child. "Come back with your parents."

Zoro didn't reply. He didn't move at all. He remained standing before the dojo's door, fixing the old man with an uncompromising glare. He didn't have a home to go back to, not that it was any of this old geezer's business. He wasn't about to tell this old man about how he had come home to find he didn't have a home. Zoro wasn't going to tell him that all he'd found where is home used to stand was a smoldering pile of cinder and ashes.

There were no bodies though. Whatever had happened to Zoro's parents, they hadn't burned to death.

Zoro knew what opening his mouth would get him. He'd be locked away in the orphanage before he could blink his eyes. He didn't want that. Absolutely not. He would get into this dojo, they would take him in, train him, and teach him how to take care of himself. And if this dojo wouldn't have him, he'd find another, and another…however many it took until someone decided to take him in and train him.

The old man studied Zoro for a long time. So long, in fact, that Zoro actually started to feel uncomfortable under the geezer's calm and steady gaze. Still he didn't move. He wouldn't. Not until the old man caved and let him join. He would work hard, he had already promised that much. He would work hard to learn the ways of the sword. He was looking forward to it even, and he would make this dojo proud someday. He swore it.

The old man's gaze never wavered, and Zoro was starting to get nervous. He didn't like attention at the best of times, and being the sole focus of the geezer's glare was more intolerable than Zoro wanted to admit.

"Did you want to fight?" Zoro asked. He tried to make his voice menacing and tough, but there was a slight quaver to it that betrayed his uncertainty. After all, Koshiro, the old man who was currently staring him down and head of this dojo, was a sword master. Zoro, on days when he'd managed to sneak out of town, had seen him giving demonstrations to students. Koshiro swung a sword with practiced expertise and controlled strength. He old man could leave the branch of a tree unscathed or slice a large boulder clean in half. It was a perfected technique.

Zoro had never even held a shinai before.

He wouldn't back down though. If he had to fight his way into the dojo, he would, or he'd die trying. He would not become an orphan though, that was absolutely certain.

The old man reached for something to the side, out of Zoro's view. Zoro tensed in expectation of the worst. Had the old geezer had enough of Zoro's stubborn refusal to leave? Was he really going to cut him down here? Zoro didn't particularly feel like dying. If it really came to that, he would run.

…Or so he told himself. But as the old man's hand started to pull the weapon from its hiding place, Zoro found himself unable to move. He was frozen in spot, his fear of the oncoming attack cementing his feet to the ground. He willed his body to move, but it remained beyond his control, paralyzed by his fear.

The old man's hand flicked out and Zoro flinched against the attack, throwing his hands up to block the blow. Not that it would matter, that sword could easily sink through Zoro's tiny bones.

A loud thud combined with a rattle sounded a few feet from Zoro. Whatever it was rolled a short distance in the grass before coming to a halt. It wasn't the sound of a sword slicing through the bones of his arms, and Zoro chanced a curious glance through squinted eyes.

A bucket lay in the grass a short distance in front of him. It was plain and empty and Zoro looked at it with confusion. Perhaps the old man had meant to hit him with it? If so, Zoro pitied the geezer's aim. Perhaps the old man didn't even feel he was worthy of using a sword on? Maybe this was Zoro's chance to escape, before the old geezer realized that the bucket had missed and decided to use his sword after all.

Zoro looked back up at the old man, trying to gauge his reaction to having missed Zoro entirely. But the old man wasn't looking at him with the irritation Zoro had expected to see. Instead he was watching Zoro with a look that suggested slight amusement.

"If you wish to join this dojo, take that bucket, fill it with water from the well, and bring it back to me." Koshiro spoke.

Zoro's eyes widened. It took him almost a full minute to process the information he'd just been given. That was it? That was all he had to do to secure his place in the dojo? It seemed so simple, he was sure he had misheard.

"That's it?" Zoro asked uncertainly, watching the crazy old man wearily.

"That's it," Koshiro smiled at the boy.

Zoro stooped and slowly picked up the bucket. He held it from the handle, weighing it curiously in his hand. It wasn't very heavy. Even laden with water, it would be easy enough to carry. So this wasn't a strength training mission…so what was the catch?

"Where's the well?" Zoro asked, turning and surveying his surroundings, searching for the well that held the key to his future.

The old man didn't speak; he simply raised one hand and pointed. Zoro followed the direction the geezer was pointing…right into the forest.

Zoro swallowed thickly. The forest had a bad reputation, and it had been drilled into his head since he was very small that he was never to enter the woods. Stories and legends passed mouth to mouth by the townspeople back in Zoro's home town often spoke of the forest as a demons den. They were cursed and dangerous woods; nothing good ever happened to a person who entered that forest.

Of course the crazy old man kept his well in there. He was an expert swordsman and could defend himself. Zoro, on the other hand, didn't possess any extraordinary skills unless you counted his stubborn nature as a skill. That was certainly the only factor that pushed him to take the bucket and turn in the direction of the forest. He wouldn't back down now.

* * *

Zoro stood at the tree line of the forest, peering into its darkened depths. The trees were large and their branches thick, and Zoro couldn't make out much from beyond where he stood. It didn't make the prospect of going into the woods any more enjoyable. He didn't have another choice though, and that in mind he took one step past the tree line.

A startled bird took off from the branches of the tree closest to Zoro, letting out an angry squawk as it left to find a more peaceful place to rest. The sudden noise made Zoro jump, flailing slightly as his foot knocked against a tree root. He managed to regain his balance, and stood for a minute to catch his breath.

He was shaking like a leaf. Pathetic! He wasn't even ten feet inside of these stupid woods and already he was too afraid to move. He'd never make it as a swordsman like this; he'd never even make it into the dojo like this. Zoro stood for a moment, willing his fearful trembling to cease and psyching himself up to push forward. It took a few minutes of mental jibing to get himself to move again, taking an uneasy step. When nothing erupted from the branches above him this time, he took another step with a little more confidence. He could definitely do this; the well wasn't far, just a little ways in and to the east.

East was…left, right? Zoro pictured a compass in his mind, trying to remember which way east pointed. He knew that north was up, so…left, definitely left. Zoro walked around the trunk of an impressively thick tree before turning and making his way to the left. He'd get to the well and be out of these woods before supper.

* * *

Something wasn't right. Zoro had been walking for hours. The old man had assured him that the well wasn't very far, and Zoro had been expecting to have reached it by now. Instead he was trudging through the woods with an empty bucket, feeling more and more panicked with each step. The sun was beginning to set, he could tell because the already dark forest was getting even darker, and Zoro was beginning to fear he'd be spending the night in these cursed woods.

Aside from the tall, thick trees though, Zoro hadn't found anything out of the ordinary in the forest. It was dark, and growing darker every minute, and the sounds of birds taking flight and small animals fleeing on foot occasionally startled him, but none of that was really out of the ordinary. Zoro hadn't come across anything that could potentially be cursed. The idea didn't make him enjoy walking through the forest though; cursed or not it was still creepy. The tree's trunks were twisted and bend at odd angles and their roots seemed intent on snagging Zoro's ankles and dragging him down. No, cursed or not, he was not a fan of these woods.

There was a clearing up ahead. Zoro could tell because the light was brighter there, he could see the fast fading sun rays through the trunks of the trees and it made him feel a little better. It was nearly sunset, but at least he'd get to see the sun at least once more if he just kept moving forward. The thought cheered him and seemed to make the surrounding forest, now filling with the noise of evening insects, seem much less frightening. He was almost there...

Zoro broke through the trees with a smile that faltered as he took in the clearing before him, his steps coming to a complete halt.

The clearing was made up of a marshy looking pond. It looked more like a flooded patch of woods than anything, filled with rotting leaves of autumns past and not seeming to be more than a couple of feet deep at its deepest. The largest tree in the forest grew up in the middle of this pond...or used to grow in the middle of the pond. It had long ago died, leaving only it's rotting stump behind. The stump was impressive though, almost as tall as the living trees surrounding it, and twice as thick. Zoro could tell that it had once been an impressive tree, and it was a shame it had died. Along the stump, vines were tangled in snarling knots, some twice as thick as Zoro's arms. They reached from the top of the broken tree down to the water at its roots and across to the trees closest to the bank of the pond.

This wasn't what stopped Zoro in his tracks though. What stopped him was the figure he could make out in the dying light of day; the figure of a man, warped and twisted at the foot of the giant tree's stump.

Zoro backpedaled in horror, terror gripping his organs and turning his limbs into useless sticks beyond his control. He was frozen, eyes widened and glued to the disfigured shape at the base of the stump. He wanted to turn and flee, to put as much distance as he could between himself and this figure as he could. He wanted to find the exit to this horrible forest. He would run screaming, right back home where he belonged...

But Zoro didn't have a home anymore. He was lost in these god forsaken woods, searching for a well and hoping that finding it would put a roof over his head. He couldn't find that _stupid well _but there was water _right there_ and maybe, just maybe, he could convince that old geezer that he'd gotten that water from the well. Besides, if this was a test of his bravery well...he looked the figure under the tree over once again...this was definitely going to take some bravery. He could do it though, _would_ do it, because he had to.

Zoro slowly made his way to the pond, his eyes never leaving the figure by the tree. It made no move, hostile or otherwise, but Zoro never looked away. He didn't want to give it an opening. He drew closer, coming to stop at the edge of the water, and he bent to collect it in the bucket. The water was shallowest at the edge of the lake where he stood, and he had to angle the bucket on its side to let as much of the water pour into it as possible. Floating leaves and detritus from the bottom poured in with it, but Zoro paid no attention to that. He was too busy surveying the figure not far in front of him.

Now that he was closer he could see the person there wasn't as horribly disfigured as Zoro had originally thought. Instead it seemed the vines that hung from the tree had tangled around it as thoroughly as they had wrapped around the trunk, giving it the appearance of something grotesque and misshapen. He couldn't make out much more in the fading light, but his curiosity got the better of him and before he'd fully realized what he was doing he was up to his knees in the pond water, trudging across it and closer to the shape at the base of the tree trunk.

It was a man, tall and slim with shining golden hair that reflected the fading daylight with a warmer red color. His eyes were hidden beneath a wrap of vines, but judging by his stillness he wasn't conscious. His eyes weren't the only part of him secured by the vines. They wrapped around his throat, across his chest, hugged his hips and secured his limbs into place. He looked as if he had been reaching for the water, fighting desperately to reach the edge of the pond before he was trapped there forever. His clothes were worn and ripped, suggesting he'd been there for a very long time, but when Zoro touched him (a quick experimental poke to the exposed flesh of his arms before Zoro quickly snatched his hand away again) he still felt warm. He was still alive, somehow.

Zoro stared up at him curiously. Despite the man's current state, he was sort of...beautiful. His golden hair was still shining in the light, like it was made from the precious metal itself. He had a sharp nose and a strong jaw and his eyebrows...well those were just sort of weird. They had a slight curl, one on the outside and one on the inside, but even that strange trait didn't take from his beauty at all.

And best of all, in Zoro's opinion anyway, he was _strong_. Zoro could tell, just by looking at the guy, that he was probably stronger than Koshiro, stronger than the bullies that tried to push him around back in town, stronger than anyone Zoro had ever come across. Zoro could see the impressive muscles, lean but strong, packed underneath the blond's torn clothing, and he could practically feel the aura of raw strength radiating off of the stilled figure. How it was those shitty vines were holding him, Zoro had no idea.

Zoro tried to speak to him, but received no response. He even gathered enough bravery to touch the man once more; again he could feel the living warmth of the blond's skin, but he got no reaction from the touch. Zoro tugged experimentally on the vines securing the man into place, finding them to be as tough as steel despite their dry, woody texture. They had no give, and after a few attempts to free the man, Zoro was forced to give up. His hands were slightly raw from the effort.

It seemed whatever it was that kept the man there, Zoro couldn't release him. At least not yet, but he could come back. He had the bucket of water that would grant him access to the dojo, and surely one of those razor sharp katana could make quick work of these vines, no matter how strong they were.

That goal in mind, Zoro stepped away from the man tied to the tree, looking up at his handsome face once more time before taking the full bucket in hand before turning and retracing his steps back out of the forest.

* * *

He didn't make it back to the dojo until the next morning. The old geezer was waiting for him just outside of the woods, his face tight with worry as he looked Zoro over. The boy was a little dirty, and definitely looked tired, but he didn't seem to be harmed at all. Instead he held out the bucket proudly, still mostly filled with water.

The old man peered into the bucket the water was murky, and debris floated in it. It certainly hadn't come from the well, so where had this boy been? He'd thought to ask, but the over excited gleam in the boy's eyes overwrote the exhaustion, and Koshiro didn't have it in him to keep the boy waiting from what he was feeling so passionately about. Instead he took the boy back to the dojo with him, had him cleaned up and put to rest after promising at least a dozen times that he would be allowed to start training first thing the next morning.

Zoro trained hard in the dojo, even surprising his teachers with his serious attitude toward practice and his strict training that he kept to everyday. He seemed driven and determined…although attempting to use three swords as once was a little ridiculous. The boy had an obvious goal though, and he was going to reach at all costs.

When Zoro wasn't training, he would disappear for long periods of time. He was never a social boy to start with, so it really didn't surprise anyone that he wandered off on his own on days that the other kids spent playing together. Where he actually went on these days however, remained a mystery to his teachers and peers. Not that it roused very much curiosity anyway.

Only one person seemed to be genuinely concerned about what Zoro was getting up too. Koshiro though, would never ask. Zoro was a free spirit and stubborn down to his soul, but he was good at heart and the old man knew he'd stay out of any real trouble. Instead he waited patiently and observed, waiting for Zoro to come to him instead.

His patience paid off a few years later when Zoro came to him with a brow creased in concern.

"Sensei?" Zoro addressed. He was always a mouthy kid, and still had the awful habit of addressing his teacher as 'old geezer' more often than not, only addressing his sensei properly under threat of punishment and even then it was begrudging sarcastic. To hear the polite tone come from Zoro's mouth was such a rare occurrence that it actually demanded the old man's full attention.

"Yes, Zoro?"

Zoro fidgeted for a moment, fishing for the words he wanted to ask before finally coming up with, "Why do people say those woods are cursed?"

Koshiro blinked. This was not what he'd been expecting, given Zoro's uncertain approach. Still, he could tell by the way Zoro stubbornly jutted his chin that this was a serious question, and Zoro expected a serious answer.

Koshiro considered it carefully. He'd heard a hundred rumors about the curse the forest was under; some of the legends were older than the town itself and some were freshly invented, but they all served their purpose in keeping people out of the woods.

"I'm not sure, Zoro," Koshiro finally admitted. "You've heard the same rumors I have."

Zoro's frown deepened. "Everyone says the forest is evil," He said.

The idea that Zoro probably spent his free time playing in the woods surprised the old man. He'd never suspect a stubborn, angry kid like Zoro to enjoy exploring in the woods, but the young man's attitude certainly implied it.

Koshiro couldn't help but feel slightly triumphant about finally getting to see a side to Zoro that had previously been a mystery, and he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

"Evil is an abstract concept, Zoro," Koshiro assured him.

"What does that mean?" Zoro asked, his face scrunching up as he struggled to make sense of the complicated idea.

"It means the opinion of what makes something or someone evil varies from person to person. My idea of evil could be very different from yours."

Zoro seemed to consider this for a moment, and while he didn't exactly look happy about it, a look of acceptance seemed to ease the worried creases on his brow. He looked up at Koshiro, one more question begging to come out. "Do you think the woods are evil, Sensei?"

The old man shrugged. "I haven't found them to be, but what I think really doesn't matter, Zoro. The real question is: Do _you_ think the forest is evil?"

* * *

Zoro stood in front of the man tied in vines. He hadn't changed at all in the last several years, though the clothes he wore had probably grown slightly more ragged, despite Zoro's best efforts to keep them patched up. Zoro, on the other hand, had changed. He was at least as tall as the man before him, if not slightly taller, and his body had filled out with thick muscles from years of intense dedication towards getting stronger.

He still hadn't been able to find a way to free the man though. When Zoro had received his first real sword, he'd immediately come here to cut away at the vines. The end result, however, was a dented sword he then had to bring back to the dojo and make an excuse for. That little act had lost him his real swords for another year, and severely damaged Zoro's hopes of ever freeing the man.

Not all hope was lost though, and that was why Zoro was here today, his three swords strapped to his side and a travel pack set on the ground beside him. He'd heard of a man who could cut anything; a swordsman greater than any other. There was no doubt in his mind that a man like that could cut through these vines and free the blond. That was what Zoro would become. He would surpass that man, become the greatest swordsman in the world, and free the blond from his prison once and for all.

To do that, however, Zoro would have to find that man, and any other strong opponents he could along the way. Zoro's town was small but the world was large, and he would definitely find a way to free the man here out there somewhere.

This was a goodbye.

"I'm leaving now," He announced to the air. He didn't receive a response, but he hadn't been expecting one either. The announcement was really more for his own resolution than for the blond man's benefit anyway.

He stooped to pick up his bag. It was light, only a change of clothes, the tools he needed to maintain his katana, and a small meal the old geezer had insisted that Zoro take with him. Besides the three swords secured to his hip, that was all he needed.

Zoro looked at the man one more time. The beauty and power that Zoro had always seen in him hadn't faded in the slightest in the last several years. If anything, Zoro had come to admire it more.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the pale skin of the blond's slender neck, palm resting against the man's throat, his thumb brushing the line of the man's strong, defined jaw. He could feel the coarse, woody, texture of the vine wrapped around the man's neck, contrasting the smooth, warm feel of his skin. It was a not so subtle reminder of what Zoro had to do.

Zoro stepped back again, giving the blond one more look over, etching the sight of him into his memories, to be drawn upon when times were tough. Zoro would never forget. And, he vowed as he hitched his bag over his shoulder and turned away from the figure at the base of the dead tree, he would definitely be back.


End file.
